Serpents' Tales
by MissWitchx
Summary: A collection of one-shots dedicated to those characters who come from Slytherin House: "Cunning is the art of concealing our own defects and discovering other people's weaknesses" - William Hazlitt.:: M to be really safe :: 3 - My take on the origin of the Malfoy/Weasley feud.
1. DM - Marked Forever

**A/N: **Disclaimer for the whole collection: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights to JKR, this is for non-profit.

So, welcome to the first entry of my Slytherin collection! There'll be various characters and eras, but mostly angst/ drama/ tragedy in genre. If any entries are EWE or AU I will post a warning in the start AN where appropriate :)

The M rating isn't for the whole collection, just for one or two entries that I may have to be safe with.

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**Favourite House Bootcamp Challenge**

Prompt: Fairy Tale

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**Marked Forever**

The man's heart froze and time seemed to stop when the child asked the question. The man knew this day would come some time or another, but he had hoped for a little more time.

He looked at the child, knowing that he would just grow to hate him if he heard this story from anyone other than him, his father. He was sure the child was old enough to understand, that is, if he communicated the tale in the right way.

The man knew he couldn't run away from the past any more. It was time to face his demons.

"I know you're a big boy now, but would it be okay with you if I told you a story tonight?" The man's voice was hoarse as he spoke to his son, whom at first seemed reluctant, but decided against protesting when he saw the man's serious and haunted expression.

The boy nodded once, and the man began his tale.

"Once upon a time, there lived a boy, who was very much like you. He grew up in a big house, with servants and rich parents whom were respected in the Wizarding World. Although the family was well-known, there were many other families who didn't like them very much; some were almost scared of them."

"Why?" The child interrupted.

"If you let me tell the story, you may ask questions at the end," the man said, struggling to keep his tone calm and his voice steady.

Again, the child nodded and the man continued.

"A while before the boy was born, a very bad and powerful wizard rose to power. This wizard attended Hogwarts and discovered that was a descendant of one of the school's founders, Salazar Slytherin, and felt proud to come from such a pure ancestry. But soon he learned of his parentage, and the fact that he was a half-blood. The wizard developed a deep hatred for his father, who was a Muggle, and his mother for spoiling the pure bloodline by running away with him instead of mating with a wizard.

The wizard's parentage soon became an obsession, and he began to wish himself to be pure, as he thought he ought to have been. This gave the wizard a desire to wipe out every Muggle and Muggleborn. He grew very powerful after he left the school, and soon, he had gained a following of elitist Pureblood families who wished the same thing. One of these families was the little boy's family – the boy I told you about at the start – his parents supported the bad wizard. That's why people were scared of them.

There was a big fight between good and evil, and eventually the evil wizard was destroyed. He had tried to kill another little boy that night, but he couldn't as the boy's parents had demanded the wizard kill them instead. Their love protected the boy, and that was what destroyed the wizard. He never understood or had the capacity to love, because he had been born under the effects of a love potion – fake love.

Some of the wizard's followers were sent to prison, but the little boy's parents weren't. The boy's father in particular, taught the boy all of his blood purity prejudices and beliefs, and because of this, people who weren't in his house, Slytherin, didn't like the boy very much at Hogwarts.

In the boy's fourth year at school, the bad wizard rose to power again. He was born with a new goal: to kill the boy who destroyed him all those years before. The Slytherin boy didn't think much of this, because he and the boy who destroyed the wizard were enemies at school.

But soon, it didn't seem all that funny anymore to the Slytherin boy. His father became a supporter of the wizard again and soon, the boy was selected to perform a dangerous task by the wizard. He was only sixteen at the time, but he had no choice. The bad wizard would have killed his father if he refused to allow the boy to accept the task, and would have killed the boy if he failed. This was another example of how dead the wizard was inside; he was unable to understand the familial love between the boy and his parents.

Because of the task, the boy was officially classed as a follower of the wizard, and a Mark was branded on his arm as a sign of his loyalty to him. The Mark was a means of communication between the wizard and his followers, and the boy had no choice but to take it.

At first the boy felt proud to be specially selected by someone so powerful, but after a while the pressure and weight of his task was too much to handle, and he felt weak. He felt scared and alone. I shan't go into detail, for you are still too young, but the boy's task was eventually completed, and he did not return to school in his seventh year.

The boy saw many horrors that year; things that were haunting for him as a teenager and still haunt him as a man, today, so again Scorpius, I shan't tell you everything yet. The horror of the wizard's rise to power again became very raw and real when some terrible things happened to his old teachers and classmates from school, whom the boy never used to get on with. That had been a wake-up call to him; the childish rivalry he'd had with those people seemed so pathetic compared to the situation they were in then. They were all in the same position, though fighting on different sides. They were in a War, feeling as if every second could be their last. It was torturous and chilling for everyone involved.

The boy was forced to return to the school and fight against people who had once been his peers and mentors. It felt wrong fighting on this side but he feared he'd be killed should be change his allegiance. He was very scared and overwhelmed, and before the end of the battle he and his family fled. The boy who had once destroyed the wizard managed to do so again, and that evil wizard is gone for good now.

Unfortunately for people who used to be his followers, the Mark they were branded with didn't vanish as the wizard had done. They are still imprinted into the skin of his followers' left forearm. The boy's Mark has faded considerably since the War, and its original shape and design isn't noticeable anymore. But no matter how much it fades, the Mark will always be there in the boy's memory, like a mental scar that isn't visible but still tangible. Forever there to haunt the boy of the bad things he had no choice but to do and unable to change now, no matter how badly he wants to.

That boy is now a man, and every time he looks at the Mark, he is reminded and haunted of those things he witnessed and did nothing to prevent. The Mark reminds him of that bad wizard, who has long been dead now, and every day he loathes the wizard more. Death erased that wizard's thoughts, whilst that man is forced to continuously re-live the pain and the misery that that damned Mark resembles.

This is a hard lesson to learn son, but it doesn't always end happily ever after for everyone."

Scorpius looked up at Draco with a frown on his pale face, "What exactly was the point of you telling me that story, Dad?"

Draco looked his son in the eye, "You asked me what this hideous grey imprint on my arm was, and I told you. I hope you can forgive me one day."

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**A/N: **Thank you for reading! Please add to alerts for more Slytherin stories. Also drop me a review if you have any comments :) I kind of figured there would have been some kind of Prophet article or interview with Harry after the fall of Voldemort so Draco knew his past and motives from there. Either that or Voldemort used to rant to the Death Eaters about it haha!


	2. BB - Our Blood

**A/N: **I've never written about the Bloody Baron before, but I quite liked the idea of exploring this from his point of view. I hope I did it justice :)

This is the entry I'm being safe with the M rating with, just a heads up.

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**Favourite House Bootcamp Challenge**

Prompt: Blood

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**Our Blood**

Blood. That is usually the first word that comes to mind when a student lays their eyes on me for the first time, or indeed, any time. They are, for the most part, familiar with my moniker, the Bloody Baron, and so accept my appearance for what it is. I'm thankful for defiant ignorance or intimidation I seem to evoke in the students, for it allows me to live in my own fantasy world in which I can pretend the blood is not hers…

I often spend the majority of the school year rehearsing several different scenarios from which I can claim I got my famed blood-stained attire; however no matter how convincing these theories sound, everything goes to hell when the damned first years arrive.

"Oi, you there, ghost. What happened to you?" one particularly obnoxious child would jeer.

"Oh wow! Were you in a war or something?" another admiring eleven year-old would swoon.

"Nah, I bet he fought dragons," one more would counter.

"Maybe he's the one who almost beheaded that Gryffindor ghost!" cries a fourth.

And there I hover, with all of the situations of bogus reasoning handed to me on a platter. I've always been a Slytherin through-and-through; lying should be like second nature to me. But I can never bring myself to utter a word. It perhaps doesn't bode well when I spend three hundred and sixty three days of the year blocking the truth from my mind. The reality comes rushing back to me without fail every time I am bombarded with questions from a new crop of Snakes.

I am almost driven to the brink of insanity with flashes of my human-life. I remember all too well how quickly the anger rose within me, and how I lashed out at her. I remember her terrible screams and the spray of her blood splattering onto my clothes as my knife plunged inside of her again and again until she lay dead in my arms. The storm in my mind clears and I can't believe what I've done. The anger fires up within me again with more intensity than I've ever felt before. I cannot live with myself after killing Helena, so I end my own life with the same blade.

Many humans are so narrow minded these days. They are driven to the assumptions that ghosts are without the capacity to feel. On the contrary, being the soul of a deceased mortal, all we do is feel, though not in a physical sense. Needless to say, I often work myself up into that same frenzy of anger when I am questioned about my appearance. I slash my blade across the heads of all of the students at the table as I relive that terrible day. It has no effect of course.

I became a ghost so I could be near Helena, hoping every day that she could even look at me, let alone love me as I do for her. I realise after centuries of wishful thinking that we can never be together in this realm, just as we could not in our human lives.

The only consolation I find in this is that we are together in one way, and it is a way that I am able to carry with me forever. A part of Helena and a part of me is bound together on my very person, in blood.

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**A/N: **Still have plenty of prompts to go for this challenge so put this on alert for more Slytherin stories...


	3. BM - Foundations of Feud and Flame

**A/N: **I have well and truly challenged myself with this one, using an extremely minor character and an O.C. for the pairing, (Brutus Malfoy is a real character who was alive during this time so I figured, why not?)

This is basically my take on how the Malfoy/ Weasley feud originated :D

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_Written for the Quidditch League competition (season 2, round 3)_

_Team/Position: Holyhead Harpies - Beater 2_

_Task: Write about a human-caused disaster. I chose the Great Fire of London_

_Bonus prompts: "Choose it or lose it" (dialogue), Someday by Nickelback (song)_

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**Favourite House Bootcamp Challenge**

Prompt: In the end, it doesn't matter

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**Foundations of Feud and Flame**

…

_London_

_2__nd__ September 1666_

…

The narrow cobbled streets are dark and dank. Navigating my way through them whilst sustaining any amount of dignity is damn-near impossible, but I do my best; huddling my limbs tightly into my body along with my heavy and flowing cloak as I shuffle evasively around pathetic, drunken Muggles and puddles of odorous sewage. A subtle cleansing charm certainly doesn't go amiss once I emerge and head down the next labyrinthine alley.

My lip curls in disgust, though whether it is intentional or simply a natural reaction to my surroundings I cannot say, for my mind is abuzz with thoughts of _her. _

As I turn the next corner a rush of warmth beats into my skin, and my pace quickens out of determination to reach her. London has been subjected to a lengthy drought for quite some time, so the heat is no stranger to this city; however this is a different sort entirely. The air itself is cold and sharp like the blade of a knife against the exposed skin of my face, but there is a tangible burst of warmth that I know is not an act of nature.

The rhythmic tap of my shoes and cane echo against the uneven floor is reminiscent to that of the rapid beating of my heart as I bypass the next peaceful row of houses, filled to burst with unsuspecting Muggles who are presumably sleeping given the late hour. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't realise my breath has become ragged until I reach Pudding Lane and it catches in my throat.

Blinding orange flames reflect in my usually cold and steely eyes and a chorus of terrified screams meet my ears. _They are only Muggles, _I think to myself, and I hurry on towards the riverfront where her house is, which isn't that far from the fire. In the current circumstances I'm not sure if that is a good or a bad thing…

Fourteen years ago, when that Muggle astrologer William Lilly published those absurd doodles of alleged 'prophetic hieroglyphics', I dismissed them without a second thought, dubbing this fool as nothing more than a fraud and a glory-hunter. Six years later, Audrey, being an avid practitioner of Divination, stated that the alignment of certain moons of planets on this very night corresponded exactly with one of Lilly's prophecies: namely, the fire that I just bore witness to.

True to my stubborn character, I laughed in her face. That had been the biggest mistake of them all in hindsight, because Audrey Weasley is no pushover; she has a hot-headedness that could always rival that of a Malfoy, such as myself. Our clashing opinions led to her leaving me: alone and heartbroken.

I have tried many times to change her mind. I'd tell her that someday I'd make it up to her, and that somehow, I would win her back, but my reluctance to step foot into her Muggle neighbourhood never did much to convince her that I could change. But the drought in recent months made me consider the likelihood of this 'Great Fire' actually happening; bright sun and the thatched roof of the bakery on Pudding Lane never seemed like a good combination.

On a whim, I had to see if it had been a real prophecy all along, and I finally stepped foot into a Muggle-infested area. At first, my motives were purely selfish_; if this wouldn't convince her to take me back, what will?_ Now, however, her safety is my priority.

It hasn't escaped my mind that she is a bright witch, and probably would have already prepared for this disaster – after all, she did know years in advance that it was going to happen - and fled the country, but as I skid to a halt outside her door, I can't help but knock anyway. I almost wish that she won't answer: that would tell me that she is already gone and safe, but when the wooden door swings open and Audrey is standing before me with a candle in her hands, my heart flutters in my chest with relief.

"Brutus?" she frowns, "Are you alright?" She crosses her arms. Her eyes are cold as she fights back a scowl, but I detect an amused glint in her brown eyes. I know that she'd have some choice words on the tip of her tongue, but in this day and age young ladies who do not behave as such put their lives at risk in regards to the law for not following social protocol.

Her red locks flow around her shoulders and contrast brilliantly with the porcelain complexion of her skin and cotton nightdress, and I am momentarily caught up in a bittersweet nostalgia before I speak.

"Things could be better. My appearance is simply a reflection of my haste to reach you tonight. The Great Fire you and William Lilly prophesized has set the bakery alight. We must leave, Audrey, lest we become victims of its flames."

Suddenly I'm pulled from my reverie, and I grow paranoid at how much the fire would have spread by now. The yellow light of the candle now seems orange and dangerous as it bounces off Audrey's delicate skin. I'm also very aware of the way my hair is plastered against the length of my neck from sweat that was likely to have originated simply from my anxiety and pumping adrenaline, but I can't shake the notion that the perspiration on my forehead has been caused by the fire. I gulp, but my throat is dry.

"Brutus, I won't allow you to play the part of the hero while I settle for the damsel-in-distress role. All those years ago when I told you I had foreseen this disaster I suggested that we compose an evacuation plan. We could have been away from London by now, safe, but you told me not to meddle in things that are inappropriate for a lady. You wouldn't listen. The story has played out now and there's nothing you can do to re-write it."

Her manner towards me is expected, but at the same time, so shocking. The building panic in my body causes something in me to snap, and I yank her by the wrist from the step.

"Do _not_ talk to me that way," I hiss. "You'd do well to learn your place."

"Excuse me for being blunt but isn't this what went wrong between us in the first place? You told me I should remember to remain loyal to you: a wizard, over the Muggle astrologer."

It amazes me how Audrey can make such a bold statement and still remain composed on the outside.

The noise in the streets is growing louder, and the thick cloud of smoke is growing larger by the second. The fire is spreading, and getting closer. By the sounds of it the Muggle parish constables have arrived, and doing very little to help. It astounds me how powerless and weak these people are.

"I'm sorry, Audrey. Forgive me, please. We can re-write this ending; I told you that someday I'd show you that we could. I can't lose you again," I release her wrist and look her in the eye. "Let's go. We can apparate once we're out of the Muggle neighbourhood." I grab her hand more gently this time and start to lead her away but she resists.

Audrey is looking down the street, where a young woman is standing in the top window of her house. She is cradling a baby to her chest, screaming for somebody to help her, but the crackle of flames drown her out, and the Muggle constables are too far away to see or hear.

"Audrey?"

"We need to help her," she responds robotically as she pulls out of my grip.

"What? But Audrey-."

"Brutus, we need to help her. She has a baby."

"No," I grab her again. "Is it really worth risking your life, for a _Muggle child_, no less?"

Audrey whips around; her eyes cutting me like daggers. There are definite orange sparks reflected in there, making them look almost molten; the fire is licking at this row of houses now.

"How heartless are you?" she demands.

I'm affronted by her attitude. "This is not acceptable decorum, Audrey. What's more it is certainly not your job to put this fire out. It was a _Muggle_ contraption in a _Muggle_ establishment that caused the fire; hence it's the _Muggle's_ problem to deal with."

"I'll have you know that I was watching from my window when it started. The fire was actually caused by a baby Welsh Green dragon that lives with Mr Gardiner, the Squib who lives _next door_ to the bakery. I'm sorry if you don't agree with this, Brutus, but I feel a moral obligation to do something."

"Keep your voice down!" I implore helplessly. "You know the penalty for behaving-."

"Yes, I do," Audrey nods, her ears turning red from the heat of what could either be the fire or her anger. "And I like to think that the Ministry will make an exception, given the current circumstances."

I hear the snap of wooden beams breaking. In a flash Audrey's house is engulfed in flames, and it collapses, landing in the street and separating us.

"Are you okay?" I shout, wrapping my cloak around my mouth to avoid inhaling too much smoke.

"I'm fine!" Audrey shouts back. I see her run towards the house with the screaming woman with her wand raised, away from me.

"NO! You'll expose us all!" I scream. Amazingly, she heard me.

"I think it's worth the risk when there are lives at stake!"

"_Muggle's_ lives!" I yell incredulously. "If you help them, you're just as bad as they are. You'll become a filthy Blood Traitor!"

The remains of her house are burnt out now, so the barricade that separates us is no longer ablaze. The same can't be said for the rest of the street, however.

"What did you call me?" Audrey demanded.

"You heard," I say lowly. "You've been like this all along, haven't you? It wasn't your bloody prediction that made you go along with what that Muggle said at all, was it?"

"If I despise you so much then why are you still here?"

"Because I love you, Audrey! I just want you to be safe; this horror-story ending wasn't meant for us."

"So, what do you want?" she asks me, all the while turning her head to see if the woman with the baby is still alive.

"Choose." I say. "Me or them."

"Brutus!" she gasps, her white skin now peppered with soot. "How could you-?"

"I, for one, still care about what is expected of me! I could never be with someone who associates so freely with Muggles. Choose it or lose it: that's how things work in my book. Just apparate to this side and you and I can-."

Audrey rakes her hand through her dishevelled hair in disbelief. "Oh so it's perfectly okay for me to use magic when it benefits _you_? I think that tells me exactly what kind of person you are."

She turns and looks around for Muggles before casting a silent _Aguamenti _charm on the blazing house with the woman and the baby, and successfully extinguishes the flames whilst casting another charm to ensure the foundations of the building stay standing.

My lip curls in disgust again. "I can't believe I've wanted you back all these years when you were just a filthy Blood Traitor the whole time."

"Family is the most important thing in the world to me," Audrey says. I can barely hear as the volume around the city is growing louder still.

Then she looks me dead in the eye one last time. It is a penetrating and soulful stare that flares with passion and meaning. "And I for one, consider myself lucky that I've managed to escape starting a family with such a cold, selfish man such as yourself."

"And I'm thankful for not trying to give us a happy ending sooner if I knew what you were really like."

"Ending?" she scoffs, her burning eyes still boring into mine as crowds of Muggles run in terror through the cobbled streets. "In the 'end', whether that be now or what could have been, it doesn't matter! We both would have had to face the truth sooner or later."

She doesn't even allow me a last word. Audrey sets off down the street, all the while shooting water over the fire with her wand whenever an opportunity would present itself.

I can't seem to look away, even though I know I need to. She is going to wind up getting herself killed one of these days with that do-good attitude of hers.

_Not matter, _I think as I cast a disillusionment charm on myself, which the stupid Muggles are too busy running around like idiots to notice. I apparate to the other side of the river and watch the Great Fire from afar, coughing violently due to what I can only assume to be too much smoke inhalation from my confrontation with Audrey.

If I'd known how different we were, I never would have made those promises to her of making everything okay again someday, which consequently meant that my life wouldn't have been at risk tonight. I can't make everything all right, be that between us as two individuals or us as two family lines.

The argument tonight was like a fault line in the aftermath of an earthquake; an omnipresent divide between two distinct patches of land, never to be joined again.

The most apt detail is that a fault line, once created, can only ever grow larger.

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**A/N: **The William Lilly predictions were actually real (I did my research ;D) I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. Thanks for reading!

Word count: 2,290


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